Spilled Tears
by charisma5
Summary: Buffy's reaction down in Sunnydale to Angel's new love for Cordelia, and the fact he seems to have moved on. *CHAP 3 added*
1. Always

+Red Champagne+  
  
  
  
Summary: Buffy's reaction to finding out that Angel has feelings for Cordelia up in LA, and the fact that he seems to have forgotten all about his Slayer. Slight AU, takes place before either Season Finales of last year, for both shows. Buffy's POV.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone at all, and I most likely never will. You see, Joss once told me that if I ever owned the BTVS and A:tS characters, we'd be living in one crazy, nekkid Spike and nekkid Angel world. Of course, I would cast myself as the leadin' lady for both of my cold vamps; they would fight over me in every episode, but in the end I would be both of their rewards. And the fact that Xander would constantly be doing manual 'construction' labor, topless, is beside the point, of course.  
  
A/n: This idea came from the thought of Angel finding out about Spike and Buffy. (Sigh, yes, I am a B/S shipper, this fiction just had to be written down; but B/S is like my divine passion).Then I realized that because he has the new love interest, the preggers and child molesting Cordy (sorry, all you Cordy lovers or C/C shippers), he probably wouldn't care that much. So, then, in the name of all jealous and angry females, I just had to write this fiction piece. I think that I'll add a second part, from Angel's POV. After all, we can't have the broody vamp not brooding. It would be like me not breathing, or not being obsessed with the wicked hot James Marsters. Inconceivable.  
  
  
  
+!+!+!+!+!+  
  
"Buffy . . . you still my girl?"  
  
"Always."  
  
+!+!+!+  
  
Eternal love. Soul mates. One true lover. Only you. Forever. Always.  
  
But that can't be true, none of those promises and whispered words you uttered were meant to still be heard years from that time, years from the days when you only loved me. The first girl you loved in 240 years. The first and only girl you would ever love for the rest of your immortal life. Was it too much to ask from you, a vampire that fell in love with a Slayer?  
  
I guess that when someone says that they'll love you until the end of time, until the world stops turning or the sky falls, that they don't really understand the magnitude of the words. They can't grasp the fact that what they say can't really ever be true, and that one day the words will turn into little drops of fallen tears that will dry up and be forgotten.  
  
Or maybe they just didn't care that much after all.  
  
Do you think of me when you look into her dark eyes, when she smiles at you with her little perfect smile, and you smile back with joy because the one you love now is with you? Do you even care that I'm still here, alone and scared, back from the dead, but only in body, and that I need you so much it physically burns? Or maybe your too busy with your new son and your new love, so much that it doesn't matter I'm dying again.  
  
And again, and again, all because you don't love me back anymore.  
  
Those heated looks you would send me, with those chocolate eyes, like you wanted to devour me whole, those years of hardship and love, were they all washed away by one of her laughs or a sultry whisper? Those times that you held me and swore you would never forget me, did they vanish when she walked into your life? Or maybe it was you that decided to wash away the memories, to clean your soul and scrub at your heart until it bled like bittersweet champagne just to forget the times we spent together. Maybe that's it. Maybe she was the opposite from me and you just wanted to forget the mistake that was the Slayer.  
  
Your Slayer. Even still.  
  
Even now, numb with the despair that you yet again caused, I would die for you in a heartbeat. Sacrifice my body and soul just for your happiness, just so that you can live another day knowing that I still love you more then life itself. But it would be with her, the life you would hold. You and her, and your son, in your little perfect family, to live your lives in happiness.  
  
I hate you, more then I hate myself.  
  
Did you ever even love me as much as I thought? Or did I just fall to your illusions and my dreams, and hope that what you felt for me could last through everything? Cause it didn't. Our love seemed to have bled dry when you left that day, walked away to your new life without a second glance. And I stood there, tears dripping down my cheeks, heart breaking like little pieces of fragile china, and you just kept on walking.  
  
Walking away from me, walking away from the pain I caused.  
  
How much did you suffer when you were with me? Do you suffer as much with her? Or maybe she makes you happy, so happy that you feel like a man but not happy enough to break your clause. The clause that 'made' you leave in the first place. The same clause that broke my heart and smashed my soul. The clause that caused you pain, and drove you to her.  
  
Where is this soul clause now?  
  
You left because you said you can never offer me the true relationship that I need. But what about her? Doesn't she need what I needed, doesn't she want the same satisfaction and happiness that you wanted to give me? Well I get it now. You could decide for me what I needed, you could deprive me twice of what I wanted most in the world, but for her it's okay. For her it doesn't matter that you'll never be with her, because she must be stronger then me, and she must know you better then I ever did.  
  
She must deserve you more then I do.  
  
When you held me tight, when you told me tales of your exultant love for me, I guess they were intricate lies told to weave around my heart and capture my soul. I guess that they were just that, words, things never meant to be remembered past the next fuck. Is that what it was? That's all I imagine them to be anymore. All I want them to be, because thinking about the fact you moved on and I still can't hurts more then knowing you never really loved me.  
  
My dashing prince left his adoring princess to die, dirty and alone.  
  
Maybe it was because I was too clingy . . . maybe I needed you to much, or loved you more then you expected. Or maybe it was you just wanted someone to hold and I was there, conveniently. Did you want to take my virginity? Was our first and only night together only something to brag about to your demon friends? "Hey guys, guess who I had last night. The god damn Slayer." Maybe I wasn't good enough, and she is.  
  
Cordelia Chase, nemesis of my high school years.  
  
What does she give you that I can't? Is it those long legs, or those tall curves? Maybe because she looks so fragile, like she needs to be protected. It could be the bitchy attitude, or the pretty face. Is it the fact that she hated me, and you do too? Don't hide it Angel, I still know you after so many years. In the end, I reminded you of what you weren't, and you hated me for it. Your resentment of a human girlfriend, showing you that you would never be like the victims you protected. A constant reminder that you were a vampire and never could be anything more.  
  
The big Savior now, I hear. You didn't save me. You never can.  
  
Well guess what? I fuck Spike now. Regularly. Not because I love him or because he's all I ever wanted. Not even because he's a cold substitute for his absentee Sire. No. It's because I need him. I need him because he cares for me, and if he stopped loving me then I wouldn't have any more reason to stay linked to this Earth. He is like my divine passion, while you are my one and only forbidden love. Funny that even a soulless demon shows me more caring then you ever will, and even funnier still it's my mortal enemy, and your Childe. But you don't care; you have a new life now and I'm not in it.  
  
What? Buffy and my Childe? That's nice, send them a fruit basket.  
  
You have to still love me and want me. You have to still care about me. If you didn't then I would die and never look back and it would just hurt to much and be heart-wrenching . . . and you just can't stop loving me. You just can't. I love you too much for even the thought of the fact that you don't care for me anymore. It would be impossible to live with myself. I just can't do it, Angel, so you can't ever stop loving me.  
  
Please? Please love me forever?  
  
I'm dying here and you don't look back. You don't help me up, you just wished me luck and took off. How can this be? How can I live with myself knowing I had your love and now it belongs to someone else? Or maybe I never really had your love at all. That has to be it. One can't fall so deeply into a swirling black hole of eternal love and then be over with it. One can't fall that hard and then pick themselves up and be done with it without a second thought to the one they didn't want to leave behind.  
  
You just can't stop loving your soulmate.  
  
So that's how it is. You loved me, you left me, you killed me, you moved on from me. To her. And your new life. You loved one girl in 240 years, but it took less then three years to stop and move on to your second love. It took less then three years to erase the one women that will love you more then anyone else, that accepted you for who you were, that shared her bed and her heart. Less then three years to forget the promise you made me, and all the lies that spilled from you dead lips, so sweet and pure that I felt light headed hearing them.  
  
You always were a selfish bastard. 


	2. Forever

+Red Champagne+  
  
  
  
Summary: Buffy's reaction to finding out that Angel has feelings for Cordelia up in LA, and the fact that he seems to have forgotten all about his Slayer. Slight AU, takes place before either Season Finales of last year, for both shows. Buffy's POV, Angel's POV.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone at all, and I most likely never will. You see, Joss once told me that if I ever owned the BTVS and A:tS characters, we'd be living in one crazy, nekkid Spike and nekkid Angel world. Of course, I would cast myself as the leadin' lady for both of my cold vamps; they would fight over me in every episode, but in the end I would be both of their rewards. And the fact that Xander would constantly be doing manual 'construction' labor, topless, is beside the point, of course.  
  
A/n: Well, I decided that I just had to write a second part to the story, from Angel's POV. This story was just calling for a second part, even though I just wanted a short angsty piece :) And thanks a million to anybody who reviewed the first time, I appreciate it tons. This one is for you.  
  
  
  
  
  
+!+!+!+!+!+  
  
"Buffy . . . you still my girl?"  
  
"Always."  
  
+!+!+!+  
  
Eternal love. Soul mates. One true lover. Only you. Forever. Always.  
  
You were the reason I changed, the reason I became the vampire that I am today. The bright spot in my many years of darkness, of spilt blood and eternal pain. I did love you, and I always will; nothing and no one will change that. But love fades, it twists along the path of distance and time, and eventually, no matter how hard you try to salvage and grasp on to the tail of it, it just becomes . . .  
  
Nothing.  
  
Even today my love for you has changed so much it's hard to remember what it felt like to only dream of you, to be consumed by your very essence and being. To know that I could love only you forever, a slave to your heart and soul. I forget what it was like to be dependent on you for my identity as I searched for one to take as my own. I was Angel, not Angelus, and not a human, not a man nor a monster. Just the Slayer's love.  
  
Now I know who I am, what my life is. And you're not a part of it.  
  
I left because I had too, because our love was not meant to be. We were soul mates, but two star-crossed lovers that could never live together in what we would consider peace. Eventually you would have resented me for what I couldn't give you, all that you were missing, and you would have hated me because I wasn't a real man. You tried to imagine me as something I could never be, and when I turned out to be just a soulful vampire it disappointed you. And maybe even before I left you started hating me, and I started to realize you and me couldn't be together. Never could be, and never would be.  
  
You still can't see that.  
  
I did leave for my own good too, I won't deny it. I wanted to see if I was better of without you, better off without our never-ending problems and a love that swallowed me whole. I was in too deep, and I was foolish. You were so naïve and innocent, and I always felt like I was taking your youth. Burdening you with a boyfriend who you had to send to Hell because he wanted to kill your friends and end the world. Whether you realized it or not when I left it was the best thing that happened to you.  
  
And because I left you hated me even more.  
  
Now love her, Cordelia, and even though it isn't all consuming it's still powerful in it's own way. It's still soul-searching and heartbreaking all in one, though I will admit I can never love her the way I loved you. Maybe that's a good thing, because the way I loved you would have eventually consumed us both. I loved you too much. I loved you more then anything.  
  
I loved you more then you can ever comprehend.  
  
And I'm sorry I let you down, I'm sorry I couldn't stand by you and still love you even when you moved on from me. What else can I say? What can I give you to make you understand that people change, that love never dies but it fades into a wisp of the greatness it used to be. Believe what you want, but in your heart you know that if I asked you to die for me today, you would hesitate longer, think harder, question me more.  
  
And I would still die for you. I hope I would . . .  
  
I have new priorities now, just like you do. You aren't at the center of my universe anymore, and you can't be ever again. You've become bitter because I have happiness while you have regret and shame at what you've become, and you've chosen me to bear you're blame. Well I won't. I can't.  
  
It's your own fault that you've become what you are.  
  
You've changed so much from that sparkling girl I fell in love with lifetimes ago. Whether it's for better or worse, I can't tell, but I do know you've become harder, angrier at the cards life dealt you. You would say that you had no other choice, that life gave you shit and you had to endure it, and that you have a reason to cry. But you don't. You have more than you'll ever know, and somehow that girl you once were has disappeared forever.  
  
You'll never be her again. And she was the one I fell in love with.  
  
I still love you in some way, I always will, but I don't love what you have become. I don't love you're essence any more, because you've been tainted with anger and rage. You're different. Changed. And maybe I have no reason to say anything, because I've changed too. But you, you're not even a shred of what I love. Loved.  
  
Will have always loved. Did love, so long ago.  
  
We both changed too much to be able to ever go back to what we had. To what we shared, what we loved. We still belong to each other's hearts, but time erased the magnitude of emotions and love. It melted down to a sweet melancholy when I hear you're name, a gentle tide of bittersweet love when I hear how you're doing. I care for you, and if you died ago, a piece of me would die with you.  
  
But I would still go on. I would recover. Just as you would.  
  
Our love can, and never will, be the same as it was when you were still an innocent and I was a vampire burning in your light. We're different people now, and that makes all the difference. It's enough to be sure when I say that if we ever got together again, we would have nothing to share but the memories long forgotten. A love that was gone. A heart that had broken long ago.  
  
Emotions that we didn't feel, just remembered. And it hurts to know that.  
  
Our love will never be that pure, that full, that beautiful. And once you can understand that too, maybe you can move on fully. Move on without resentment towards me and my new life, towards Cordelia and my son. We will always know each other better then anyone, always know what we shared was rare and amazing. That we are soul mates, but destiny doesn't have us sharing our lives together for a reason. No matter how much it hurts, the pain will eventually fade and ebb away, just like our love.  
  
Just like your tears.  
  
Maybe I can say these things to you, harsher then I want them to be, because of what you've done. What you've done that will hurt me more then anything else, even worse then those words of hate you uttered, you're declaration that you couldn't be with me anymore. Worse then a stake ripping through my heart, from your own hand.  
  
You've been a bad girl. Sleeping with the enemy.  
  
Is he good? Is he better then a human man? Is it because he's cold and hard, ready for your searing touch, and ready to offer any words of love that slip over his lips and tumble over you? Whatever it is, it's disgusting. Filthy. To let his hands touch you, the hands of a soulless killer that would murder you in cold blood if he could. Maybe that's why you like it.  
  
You've turned into a vampire whore.  
  
I guess you like the cold comfort he offers, better than a human man. When you fuck him do you like it, knowing you're screwing the Childe of your first lover? I hope you do, because it's better then the fact you fuck him because you want too. Have things gotten so bad you turned to him for love and satisfaction? Even you're panting idiot friend, Xander, would be better then Spike. Better then an evil vampire that has no remorse for the pain he's caused.  
  
I'll never forgive you for what you've done.  
  
When I heard, it was the final hit. I knew that you had changed too much for me to love you anymore, for us to ever have a chance together again. It was sad, but I was too angry to comprehend that my love had done something so dirty. So dishonoring. What would they say, your friends? I know that they have no clue about the two of you. You would rather live in secret then have you pristine virtue scarred, you little minx.  
  
Even when I loved you, I hated you. And I hate you now more then I ever have.  
  
  
  
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A/n: I was thinking of adding one more part, an actual interaction between the two instead of a POV. But tell me if you think I should, or if I should just leave it as is. Thanks. 


	3. Gone

+Spilled Tears+  
  
Summary: This is the confrontation (finally) between Angel and Buffy, which follows in sequence the other two chappies.  
  
Disclaimer: Nothing has changed. I'm still dirt poor. I still don't own anything. I still want to slap Joss Whedon upside the head for abusing his characters. But that story is for another day.  
  
A/n: So I'm evil. Eeevil! Some people have expressed the fact that maybe I've had my characters acting a little too harsh towards each other. In all due respect, if the love of your life moved on to another person, wouldn't you be bitter? Angry? In need of psychiatric help if you ever see the little shit? Of course you would. I found that both of them seemed angry, but underneath were pained and hurt that each other could move on so easily. That's it. That's all I tried to write. In this chappy, I had them finally confront. And while a lot of you are going to hate it because it didn't turn out how you wanted, and maybe some of you will like it, I hope that either way you'll review. Pretty please? Thanks.  
  
  
  
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"You still my girl?"  
  
"Always."  
  
+!+!+!+  
  
He sat alone in the lobby, and she watched him as he fidgeted nervously on the green couch in the central part of the room. Beside him, a couple of feet away, she could see a small baby basket, which presumably held Connor. The Baby. She sighed, still watching him from the safety of the bright sunlight outside the glass doors. Her heart was swimming in her chest, and butterflies were taking nosedives into her stomach.  
  
Holding on hand on the glass, she bit her lip and vowed that she would not cry. No matter what he did or said, she wouldn't cry. She had cried enough for him over the last four years of her life, and now she didn't now if she could cry anymore without shattering to a million tiny pieces, just like fragile china.  
  
Tracing a fingertip over the intricate carvings in the glass, she feverishly wondered if maybe it wasn't the best idea to come here. She had called him soon after she had found out about Cordy and Connor, which had been tense. As she spoke to him on the phone, his usually gentle voice had been filled with a harshness she hadn't remembered, and a simmering hostility she couldn't understand. He sounded angry at her, her beautiful Angel.  
  
Angel heard a slight noise at the doorway, and his dark eyes lifted to meet the sight of a petite blonde girl, that seemed torn between coming and going. Buffy. He sighed softly, more of an unneeded breath of air passing by his lips. He lifted on hand and ran it through the unruly spikes in his brown hair, trying to contain his emotions. When he saw her, he was filled with all the rage he had first been when he had found out about her and Spike. He was also filed by a gentle brimming of peace, but not what he was searching for. He wasn't filled with that all consuming passion anymore. And it hurt.  
  
Her hazel eyes raised, and they met his. For a minute, neither made any move, their eyes locked. Finally, Buffy dropped her hand to the door handle, and let herself in. She walked in slowly, carefully, and then shut the door behind her with a soft click. And then she just stood there, gazing at him with something akin to a stranger's interest. Her eyes flickered briefly over to the empty baby basket, and then around the Hotel lobby. Finally they rested back on him.  
  
Buffy tried to fix her face into the emotionless mask that she had perfected over the last year. But it just wouldn't work when she met Angels' eyes again. He was like she last remembered, dark and dangerous, and absolutely beautiful. Some sick part of her mind realized that her heart wasn't thrumming anymore when she went close to him, and her heart didn't drop to her stomach. She wanted to cry.  
  
To him, she looked the same. Maybe a little more thinner, and her hair a little darker, but otherwise she had become a beautiful young woman. Her face seemed more mature, her eyes harder. Angel didn't know when her face had lost its innocence, when her eyes had seemed to lose her hope, but somehow along the way they had. His head cocked to the side, studying her. She was still his Buffy, but she was a completely different girl at the same time. Almost someone he didn't even know.  
  
"Hey," she greeted softly, her voice falling over him.  
  
He stood up, and tried to smile. But when he looked at her all he could see was Buffy thrashing under Spike, that same golden hair spilled over a pillow as she called his name. He held back his growl and disgust. Now he knew why he couldn't recognize her; it was because she wasn't the same girl at all.  
  
"Hi," he answered back tensely. Her eyes widened slightly but she made no comment. She wasn't stupid. She probably knew why he was angry. For a minute she was silent, her heart breaking all over again. Why didn't he love her anymore? Why did he choose Cordelia over her?  
  
"Is that Connor?" she whispered, gesturing to the basket in blue ruffled trim. Angel felt his chest constrict, but he didn't lash out, or cry. He just looked at his feet, jaw clenching, and he shook his head. His eyes lifted back up to meet hers again.  
  
"No." He said. But the lukewarm anger flared into a red rage, and he couldn't see anything but the vivid red washing over his vision. With a sudden growl, he lashed out and kicked over the baby basket, sending it flying into the nearest wall. It smashed, the weak plastic breaking under the vampire strength. The pieces skidded across the ceramic floor, one handle sliding to a halt in front of a surprised Buffy. But she was quiet, not questioning him. As she always did, she understood that he didn't need a preacher right now, whatever he was going through. She did know him best.  
  
Finally he spoke, slumping down onto the couch again, his forehead supported by his hands. "He was taken away from me. To another dimension . . . a hell dimension. It was last week." Angel said softly, and she could hear the hoarseness in his voice. She wanted to hold him, to tell him it would all get better soon. But it wouldn't get better; it never would.  
  
"Oh, Angel," she hummed, and started over to him, with her arms outstretched and her eyes soft. He looked up at her, one lone tear trickling down his pale cheek. But when he saw her walking over, he jumped up.  
  
"No," he snarled, face a mask of disgust and rage. "I don't need your sympathy."  
  
She stopped in her tracks, eyes quavering. Her arms dropped to her sides, and slowly she began to frown. He saw her pain and hurt, and he relished it. He wanted to hurt her, wanted to break her, and wanted to make her cry. Wanted to make her die, like she had him. But most of all, he wanted to make her hate him so that she could leave and he would never see her again. To make her run away, and never look back. Just like he wanted to do right now.  
  
"What?" she said quietly.  
  
He turned away, eyes closing briefly. Whirling around, his hissed through closed teeth, "You heard me. I don't want your sympathy. I just want you to leave."  
  
Easing back onto the couch, he ignored her sharp intake of breath. Why couldn't this just be easy? Why couldn't he just leave her forever? He didn't love her anymore . . . at least he didn't think he did. It hurt too much to love her. And maybe he just wanted to be free of that pain.  
  
"Angel . . . why are you being like this? I know your son left, but I just came her to . . . to . . ." She trailed of, unsure herself of why she had come here. To confirm her suspicions? To shoot death glares at Cordelia? Or to make Angel hurt, just like he had done her? She didn't know anymore. And maybe she just didn't want to know.  
  
Angel chuckled harshly, his face dark. "I know why you came her. To gloat. To gloat about you and that miscreant of a vampire."  
  
Buffy's mouth dropped open, and so did the floodgates. Her eyes brimmed with tears, and she felt a swirl of emotions stream through her. Rage at the fact he felt he could lecture her on her life; satisfaction that he took some pain in her and Spike; relief that the secret was somewhat out; and most of all, sadness, sadness for the fact that everything she and Angel had was lost forever. That hurt most of all.  
  
"No," she said, tears dripping down her cheeks. Angel smirked grimly, watching the girl in front of him as she broke down. What did she expect; him to be joyous that she was screwing Spike? He wondered if she had done this all to make him jealous. But with a pained revelation, he realized that she had done this because she wasn't his anymore.  
  
"Oh yes," he said, moving closer to her and watching her pain. He felt a cruel satisfaction when he saw those big fat tears rolling down her cheek. She deserved to cry, for all the pain she had caused him. He wanted her to cry.  
  
He leered at her. "Was he good, Buff? Is that why you decided to fuck him?" Angel felt his heart break as he taunted her, knowing that he was being an asshole. He was acting like Angelus, and maybe he wanted to be an asshole.  
  
Buffy gasped, her tears momentarily stopping as she heard his uttered words, saw the cruelness in his eyes. He wasn't her sweet Angel anymore; he was a shadow of what she loved. And in that moment, she realized something that made the tears start again. She and Angel had changed too much to ever be with each other again. Too much, too still love each other. Love did fade; it didn't last for eternity.  
  
"Shut up!" she screamed, walking the few steps between them and reaching up to slap him full across the face. He took the slap, looking down into her eyes when she pulled her hand away. Tears still pouring, she glared at him, wanting to be comforted by him, but knowing that it wouldn't do any good anymore. He probably didn't care about her anymore.  
  
"Why?" he whispered sadly, face suddenly dropping. "Why would you do it?"  
  
He gazed at her, and her tears slowed to a trickle as she looked into those dark eyes. The anger in them had faded, replaced by a look of loss and regret, heartbreak and bitterness. She looked up at him in wonder, taking a deep breath and forcing her mind to create words, to think up some excuse other then the truth.  
  
"Because." She answered softly, evading the truth. Right now she didn't want to evaluate her relationship with Spike, she just wanted to see Angel again. Again, one last time, probably forever, before she forgot what the planes of his face looked like in the light, or how the silk of his hair gleamed.  
  
"Alright," Angel said, backing off from the subject. His anger had been sudden and fierce, but now it had drained away to a dull ache in his heart. Though he wanted to know exactly what had been going through her mind when she crawled into Spike's bed, he realized that this wasn't what the meeting was about. It wasn't about them any more, it was about what they had together. What would happen soon.  
  
"Thanks," Buffy ground out, happy that he had dropped the subject. He just nodded softly, shutting his eyes briefly before they slowly opened again, fresh pain swirling within their depths. He slumped on the green couch again, almost in the same position he had been when she had first walked in. she looked at his profile, one she had memorized so long ago. Yet it seemed somehow different, or maybe distorted, like she was looking at him through a fogged glass. Or a haze of hot tears, a thick sheen coating her eyes.  
  
"When did it happen?" she asked him, her voice wavering. New tears threatened to spill over again, but she blinked rapidly, trying to keep them in. His head lifted at her question, and he gazed at her hard before clearing his throat. He knew what she had asked him, though she had spoken no names or actions.  
  
"I don't know. It just . . . was, I guess. Love's like that." Angel muttered, and she felt a slice of pain rip through her. He didn't deny it, didn't sugarcoat the truth. He said it as though it was fact, as though he had no qualms about trying to placate her heart. He said it like it was meant to be.  
  
And maybe, it was.  
  
"I understand," Buffy said, through a ball in her throat. One lone tear spilled over and ran down her face, over her cheek, off her quivering chin. His head cocked to the side as he looked up at her, in sick fascination, as though this would be the last time he would ever see something so beautiful. Studying it, like he would never be given the chance to see such delicious heartbreak, such unadulterated pain, ever again.  
  
Little did she know, he was. Memorizing the shape of her face, the curve of her lips, the shimmer of her eyes, the wisps of her hair.  
  
So beautiful, so heartbreaking.  
  
"Do you?" he accused her, standing up once more. He felt that bubbling anger flare up again, though he didn't know why it kept claiming him. Why he couldn't tell her he loved her, tell her that they would never be again, tell her to leave and never come back. Tell her they were no more.  
  
Buffy felt herself harden against his growl. What was she supposed to do? Drop down on her knees in forgiveness and beg him to accept who she had become, what she was? It wasn't like it even mattered anymore.  
  
"No," she relented, sardonic smile on her pale face. "I don't. I won't pretend to feel the utter desolation and sadness one does when they have no one in this world. The all consuming anger at a life you don't control anymore. The pain in realizing your soul mate left you for a leggy ex- cheerleader. You know what Angel; fuck you."  
  
"Fuck you," she whispered, her eyes cold as she glared at him. She brought a chipped fingernail to her lips and nibbled at the torn tip. Her hand trembling, she pushed back an errant wisp of limp hair. She was waiting.  
  
He relented, tears coursing down his own cheeks now. What could he say now that would make it all better? Nothing. This was what she had wanted, and he couldn't deny her this last wish. Even though it would rip him apart he was to far gone in his own agony to think about repercussions.  
  
She had become such a shadow of the vibrancy she once was, and he couldn't stand it. He would do anything to make her pain go away. Anything.  
  
And he was going to.  
  
"Come here," he mumbled, and she walked over to him. Her eyes shone with such happiness and grateful joy that a chocked sob escaped his throat. She stood in front of him, face tilted up to peer in his watery chocolate eyes. How she had loved to gaze in them, a joy that had been taken away, and never able to be returned. That's why she was doing it. Because she could never have all of what she had lost with Angel again, and she couldn't bear to live without it. She wouldn't have to live without it now.  
  
"Can I change your mind?" he whispered as a gentle hand came up to caress her white cheek. He searched her eyes for hope, but he saw none. He saw nothing swirling in their cold hazel depths. It scared him.  
  
"No," she managed to utter, and he nodded. He brushed a chaste, sweet kiss on her lips, a kiss that reminded her of innocent years in his arms, stolen kisses in the graveyards and a smoldering passion that was destined to be set free one fateful night. She cried.  
  
"I'm sorry it got this far," he mumbled, leaning forward so their foreheads touched. "I'll always love you no matter what, no matter who comes between me and you."  
  
"I know," she said back, a wavering smile gracing chapped lips. "It's the same for me."  
  
They stood in silence for many minutes, maybe hours, Angel trying to calm his thrumming pulse. He couldn't do it but would have to. Didn't want to but needed to. For her. For him even more.  
  
So much emotion the air was thick and heady. Last moments spent together with a pair of lovers made for each other, made to love each other, though destined never to be. Soul mates. Eternally.  
  
"Good bye, my love," Angel whispered as his lips descended over her smooth skin.  
  
+Angel's POV+  
  
As I slit your delicate throat with razor sharp teeth, I sighed; you looked so beautiful. Your blood tastes of drowning and despair, of agony so deep it was appallingly delicious. You clutch at my head, urging me to drink. You want this. You always have.  
  
I've given you the one last thing you will ever ask of me. I would never deny you something you wanted since the day you were Called.  
  
Death by my hand, by my lips, by my teeth.  
  
Good bye, my Slayer, my love, my soul mate, may you find some comfort there. I'll never stop loving you, until the day I turn to ashes.  
  
+++++The End+++++ 


End file.
